


Meant To Be

by Isleoftwentyonebirds (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC, Teenlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Isleoftwentyonebirds
Summary: John Watson starts a new school halfway through the year. He meets many new people and also a boy who wears his coat collar turned up. He soon finds he can't take his eyes off of this mystery boy.





	Meant To Be

I walked through the open doors of my new school. “You'll like it there.” My mother had said. “Thats where Harry went and it will be good to start new…” I couldn’t see the appeal of the old, run-down, Baskerville Academy. I had gotten sent here for 11th year from my old school because of my sports scholarship, I was fantastic at rugby. I had told my parents many times that I wanted to become a doctor but they had heard none of it. “John, you stick with rugby. You could go to college and play on the big teams!” My father had said. I sighed, I really missed my dad.

“You're John Watson?” I heard a deep voice ask.  
I turned around “Yeah.” I stuck out my hand and we shook.  
“Ah, the rugby player.” The man grinned. “I’m Principal Dartmoor.”  
“Let’s see here.” Principal Dartmoor chuckled. “John Watson… Room 211. Heres your key. I’ll have Mike show you up.” He ushered to a boy about my age who was loitering around the halls. “See you at rugby signups Watson…” The principal waved as he left.  
“Sure thing sir.” I gathered up my things.  
“Hey mate, need a hand?” Mike asked.  
“Yeah, sure” I smiled and handed him a bag.  
“So I’m Mike.” Mike grinned. “I heard about you. You gonna do Rugby?”  
“Yeah, I played in my old school.” I told him. We started walking towards the stairs.  
“Tryouts are tomorrow. I am so excited that…”  
I was half listening, I was nervous to think that I might not make the team, I had to. For my dad…  
“Oi, John.” Mike snapped me out of his thoughts.  
“What? Sorry…” I mumbled.  
“It’s ok mate.” Mike smiled. “I just asked if your room was 211?”  
“Yeah it is… Hey do you know Greg Lestrade?” I asked. “It says he's my roommate.”  
“Yep, sure do.” said Mike. “Greg's my mate, he’s a nice guy. He's also captain of the rugby team.”  
“Oh.” I responded.  
“Here it is, room 211!” Mike said a minute later.  
“Thanks.” I smiled.  
“No problem, see ya later!” Mike waved.  
“See ya.” I opened the door to my new room. It was small, with two single sized beds and matching bedsheets and pillows. There was a large window overlooking the courtyard and it had a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a shower. Greg wasn’t here yet so I decided to take a shower. When I was finished my new roommate still hadn’t arrived. I got dressed and turned down my bed. Climbing in, I set my alarm and fell asleep almost instantly.

I jolted awake from the wild ringing of my alarm clock. I sat up and looked at the bed next to me. It was empty, but I saw that there were wrinkles in the bed and dirty clothes on top of it. Greg must have gotten in late and woken up early. I unwillingly left my warm bed and got up to brush my teeth and put my uniform on. Pulling my shoes on, I grabbed my school bag and rushed out the door, determined to make it to breakfast. I followed the smell of baked goods. My stomach rumbled as I grabbed a tray and filled it with raspberries and toast and jam. I also grabbed a mug of tea. Then I stopped. Where would I sit?  
“Oi, John!” a familiar voice called. I looked up to see Mike waving furiously, sitting with two boys and two girls whom I didn’t know. I smiled and waved back. I walked over to join them.  
“Hey John, this is Molly, Mary, Greg, and Phillip.” Mike said, introducing me.  
Molly had long red hair and a round face with bright green eyes, and she was reading a book. Mary was a pretty girl with blue eyes and short blonde hair. Greg was a tall, built boy with dirty blonde hair who looked bored, and Phillip was a shortish boy with messy brown hair and a dopey grin on his face.  
“Hey everyone.” I said, and sat down.  
“Hi John.” Molly waved over her novel. War and Peace, I think.  
“John…Watson? You must be my roommate.” Greg said skeptically.  
“Yeah, you’re the rugby captain?” I asked.  
“Yes, I heard you wanted to join the team.” Greg said. “Tryouts are tomorrow, I expect you’ll be there.”  
“Yeah, ‘course.” I answered.  
“Hey John, whats your schedule?” Mary asked.  
“Oh, hang on,” I said, pulling it out. “I have French 1, then Chemistry, and English today.”  
“Oh awesome,” Mary smiled. “I have French with you.”  
“Nice.” I grinned.  
“Aw damn, John. We’ve got no classes together!” Mike shook his head sadly. “But i’ll see you at lunch mate.” He added with a smile.  
“Later.” I waved, as the bell rang and I headed off to my first class.

I walked with Molly, listening while she rambled on about the school. She was nice, but she kept mentioning this boy, who she described as very clever and enigmatic. Apparently she likes him, but the way she talked about him made him seem like a total jerk. We got to the classroom and sat down.  
“Bonjour class…” The teacher started. I tried to keep up but didn’t know some the words she was saying, so I wrote them all down so I could study later.  
It was over eventually so I said ‘au revoir’ to Molly and headed off to Chemistry. The class was full and I just sat in the back so I wouldn’t be the center of attention. The Chemistry teacher was tall. She was young, for a teacher. Her name was Ms. Donovan. Chemistry did not come easy for me, so I found myself spacing off. I noticed the boy a couple seats up from me, he look bored and was not paying attention either, just scribbling in his notebook. He was tall, with raven-black curly hair, he was wearing a long black coat, with the collar turned up. I had to admit, it did make him look mysterious and cool. And, like the boy could read my thoughts, he turned around and looked at me. His bright green eyes were rimmed by a sweep of long, dark lashes, he had high cheekbones that were lit by the shining of the florescent lights, and full, dark red lips. I really needed to stop staring. I smiled at him, but he did not return the smile, so I shook myself and glanced away. I had a feeling that this was the boy Molly had described. The boy did not look back for the rest of the class, but I was staring at him. There was just something about him that made my heart skip.

I packed up my school supplies after the final bell rang in my last class. I was ready to go up to my dorm to rest and shower when I saw Molly heading towards me from down the hall.  
“Hey, John!” Molly waved, she was bubbling with excitement.  
“What’s up?” I grinned.  
“Do you want to hang out with all of us at Speedy’s?” She asked timidly.  
“Sure!” I smiled, glad to have friends my first day of school.  
“Okay, we are leaving right now. Follow me!” She led me into the cafeteria where Mike was waiting.  
“Hey John! Now we’re just waiting on Greg, Mary, and Sally.” Mike told me.  
“Sally? I don’t know who she is.” I questioned.  
“Oh, thats right. I’ll introduce you.” Molly said.  
We waited a couple more minutes and then we saw Greg and Mary walking towards us, accompanied by a short girl, with dark skin, and brown ringlets framing her round face.  
“This is Sally, Sally this is John.” Molly said, introducing us.  
“Hi.” I nodded my head towards her.  
“Hi.” She waved shyly back.  
“Ok, everybody ready? Let’s go.” Mike said, and we followed him out the doors of the school, and down the street, to a little cafe. We each ordered some tea, I liked my tea with some milk and sugar. We all sat down at the table to chat. I was just listening, and blowing on my tea to make it cool down, when I heard the door to the cafe open. I didn’t turn to look, because my back was turned to it but I saw Molly’s face go as red as her hair and she looked down into her lap.  
“What’s wrong?” I whispered to her.  
“That’s him, the boy I was telling you about.” She whispered back, nodding her head towards the door. I turned discreetly to look and saw the strange boy from my Chemistry class. He was still wearing his black coat, with the collar turned up. He saw me too, and he stared at me with those green eyes of his.  
“That’s him?” I swallowed a sip of my tea.  
“What are you two staring at?” Mary asked.  
“Sherlock.” Molly blushed.  
“The boy you’ve been crushing on?” Mary laughed and pointed to the boy. “Sherlock?”  
“Mary! Shhh.” Molly whispered, ducking her head.  
“Sherlock.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “What a strange name.”  
“Yes, I suppose.” Greg said. “His older brother and I are friends, although I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”  
“Oh, yes. Mycroft. He graduated a few years ago.” Mike said.  
“I hate Sherlock, he thinks he’s better than everyone.” Phillip sighed.  
I think the boy knew we were talking about him because he glowered at us, but then he just sat down with his coffee and opened up a book.  
“Go talk to him, Molly.” Mary giggled.  
“Me? Why?” she gasped.  
“Because you like him.” She exasperated.  
“No. I couldn’t.” She groaned.  
“Ok, you do it John.” Mary laughed.  
“Me?” I choked on my tea.  
“He can look at me and tell me my whole life story.” Mary laughed. “Go see if he can with you.”  
“Fine.” I said, and stood up. They all cheered for me as I walked over towards Sherlock. When I got closer the boy looked up at me over his coffee, surprised.  
“Hi, I’’m-” I started.  
The boy interrupted. “You’re John Watson. You want to become a doctor when you’re older, your brother Harry is an alcoholic and I know your dad died in war, which you're emotionally troubled about and now have PTSD. Where did he die, by the way? Afghanistan or Iraq?”  
“H…How on earth did you know that?” I stuttered, taken aback.  
“I noticed.” The boy said simply.  
“No seriously. Are you a mind reader?” I asked, only half joking.  
The boy snorted. “Hardly. You are carrying around medical books in your bag so I know you are studying to become a doctor. Your bag says, ‘Property of Harry Watson', so it's obviously a hand me down. It could be your father, but he was a military man, that bag wouldn't be so badly looked after if it was his, so brother is the most likely case. He's obviously an alcoholic because the bag has various stains from certain alcoholic beverages. And I know your father died at war because of the slight tinge under your clothes- dog tags. I'm guessing it's a parents because of how you started a new school late into the semester…” He stopped talking and lowered his gaze.  
“Wow. Awesome.” I said honestly. I’ve never even spoken to this boy  
“Wait… You’re not angry?” He looked at me askance.  
“No, that was extraordinary.” I smiled.  
“Did I get anything wrong?” The boy mumbled, his gaze dropping.  
“Well, Harry's short for Harriet.” I smirked.  
“Harry’s your sister.” The boy sighed.  
“But that was truly amazing.” I told him.  
“You really think so?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what people normally say.”  
“What do people normally say?” I asked.  
“Piss off!” The boy smiled. I laughed.  
“Do you want to come sit over with us?” I asked him.  
“No, I have to go now anyways.” He downed the rest of his coffee and winked at me. “My name’s Sherlock Holmes. I’ll see you around, John.” He then left the cafe, his long coat trailing after him, and was gone. He left me standing there dumbfounded, my thoughts swimming with his green eyes and high cheekbones. I went back and sat down next to Molly.  
Greg grinned at me. “I’ve never seen him speak to anybody like that.”  
“He’s seriously said only three words to me. I think those were ‘Shut up, Anderson’.” Phillip grimaced.  
I just grinned. “He is strange. He told me everything about myself just by looking at me.”  
“See, it is true.” Mary laughed.  
“He’s a freak.” Sally pouted.  
“He is.” Phillip agreed with her.  
“I dunno. I can see why Molly likes him.” I smiled. Molly smiled at me.  
We finished up our tea and left the Cafe. Greg and I headed up to our dorm to get some rest for tryouts in the morning.

My alarm woke me with a start. I reached out and turned it off without missing a beat, then just rolled over and closed my eyes again.  
“Oi, John!” I heard a voice call out and then something hit my face.  
“Wha…?” I cried out, still half asleep, and tried to protect my face with my hands.  
“Johnny. Hey John. John!” The voice called out again.  
I opened my eyes to see Greg looming in front of me with a pillow, raised above his head like he was going to hit me again.  
“No! I’m up. I’m up!” I shrieked.  
“Good, you don’t want to be late to tryouts.” Greg said.  
“No. I’ll be there.” I said, and sat up.  
“Ok. See you soon.” Greg smiled, then turned and left.  
I got up and quickly brushed my teeth, and got into my practice shorts and pulled a T-Shirt on, then made my way down to the field. When I arrived I saw my competition, there were about 40 other boys trying out with me. I knew only 22 could make the cut. I breathed in, then out. I could do this.  
“Ok boys. We’re going to start out easy. Let’s see you run 20 laps. Go!” Greg shouted. So I ran.  
Thirty minutes in, I was dripping sweat and super tired. I had done well so far, I was the first one to finish the laps. I came in second on the jumping contest, after Phillip. And I had the best Penalty line kick, according to Greg.  
“Hey! We are going to play ball now!” Greg yelled. “Split into two equal groups. Ok?”  
I was ready. The only boy I knew on my scrimmage team was Mike. Mike smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up. I smiled back. The ball was tossed, and the game began. I ran back behind everybody and heard a shout.  
“John!”  
It was Mike. Mike tossed the ball to me and I had to leap as high as he could to catch it. I landed, and ran as hard as I could towards the end of the field with the ball. I heard shouts of encouragement and finally I dived at the ground. I had scored my first Try.  
“That was great, John!” Mike told me.  
“Yeah, John!” Phillip laughed.  
“Nice job, John.” Greg said.  
I was ecstatic. It felt great. The game went on. At the end, I scored 5 Tries, and Mike scored 3. My team won and everybody did good. It was going to be a hard decision for Greg to choose 22 players out of all the boys.  
“Ok, boys. Great job today. The results will be announced tomorrow.” Greg told them.  
I went over to Mike.  
“Nice job mate.” I high-fived Mike.  
“We make a great team.” Mike smiled at me.  
“I know. Hey, I’m gonna go take a shower. See you at breakfast?”  
“Ok, see ya.” Mike turned around to go talk to Phillip.  
As I headed towards the boys lockers, I heard a shout from around the corner.  
“Shut up! You’re a freak.” A voice spat.  
“It’s not my fault your girlfriend broke up with you.” A softer voice spoke.  
“It is, you idiot!”  
“Well it was quite obvious-…”  
The voice was cut off by the scuffling of feet and a large smack. I rounded the corner and saw a dark headed boy towering over a cowering boy, with his fist raised.  
“Oi! What’s going on here?” I shouted.  
The boy lowered his fist. “Why do you care?”  
“You don’t just go around punching people. What do you think you’re doing!” I yelled.  
“I had good reason to hit him, this poof here thinks he’s better than everyone.” He retorted maliciously.  
I turned my attention to the boy on the ground. I recognized the lean shoulders, the tangled mess of black curls, the cupid-bow lips, the piercing green eyes… It was Sherlock.  
“Get away from him!” I yelled at the boy.  
“Or what?” The boy smirked.  
“Don’t mess with me.” I warned.  
The boy sized me up, then finally decided that it wasn’t worth fighting me because I was obviously stronger. “Whatever, I don’t need to fight Sherlocks boyfriend.” He snarled, and walked away. “I’m not actually gay.” I told the boy defensively, but he gave no sign he heard.  
“Are you ok?” I asked, taking Sherlocks hand and pulling him to his feet. I studied Sherlocks bruised up face. He had a split lip, a bruised cheekbone, and a cut on his forehead, already bleeding into his eyes.  
“Fine.” Sherlock sighed, wiping away the blood. “Although, I don’t need protection.”  
“I was just trying to be a friend.” I told him.  
“I don’t have friends.” He spat. He shoved past me and walked away. Leaving me standing there watching him leave again, his long coat fluttering behind him. I wondered why he was trying to push me away. I decided to go up to my dorm to change out of my rugby clothes and to try to distract myself from the thought of Sherlock Holmes. I met Greg on the way up and he stopped me.  
“So, John…” Greg started. “You’re a great Rugby player.”  
“Did I… Did I make the team?” I squeaked.  
“Of course you did. So did Mike, and Phillip.” Greg laughed.  
“That’s great!” I smiled, thrilled.  
“I’m glad you're happy.” Greg said. “Practice starts tomorrow, 6 am sharp.”  
“Ok. Can’t wait.” I smiled. I hadn’t disappointed my dad after all.  
“I have to go, see you around.” Greg said curtly, and strolled past me and went down the stairs.  
I got up to my room and I jumped in the shower. I was very happy, why wouldn’t I be at this moment? I made the rugby team, things were looking up. I got dressed in my uniform, grabbed my backpack and headed to class. I saw Mary in French and she waved me over.  
“Bonjour John.” She smiled warmly.  
“Bonjour.” I smiled back. “Did you get your homework done?”  
“Oui, oui.” She laughed. Then class began.  
“Bonne classe du matin . Ouvrir à la page trente se il vous plaît.” The teacher began.  
French went by quickly for me, and I found himself walking to Chemistry before I knew it. I was stopped by a familiar voices, the sound of Molly talking to Sherlock.  
“Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later after classes-” Molly started.  
Sherlock interrupted. “You’re wearing lipstick. You never wear lipstick.”  
Molly stuttered. “I, uh. I just decided to put some on.”  
“Sorry. You were saying?” He deadpanned.  
“I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee?” She asked him.  
“Yes. Black, two sugars please. Thank you.” He said curtly, and then he turned around and walked away.  
I walked up to Molly. “Hi.”  
She looked at me with tears in her eyes and my heart dropped for her. “I don’t think he likes me.” She said dubiously.  
“I just don’t think he understands how behave like a friendly, nice human being.” I said.  
She laughed. “Maybe that’s true.”  
“See you around, Molly.” I smiled.  
“Bye John.” She said. We headed off in opposite directions.

After a few weeks of my new classes, and meeting new people, I decided to explore the small city of Carlton that my school was in. I was by myself, but I had my cellphone on. All of a sudden the telephone booth near me started ringing. I glanced around, but nobody was near me. My curiosity won and I decided to go answer the phone.  
“Hello?” I chirped.  
“There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?” The voice on the other line spoke. It was a deep, manly, mysterious voice.  
I swallowed nervously. “Who is this? Who’s speaking?”  
“Do you see the camera, John?” The voice said. How did he know my name?  
“Yes, I do.” I told him meekly.  
“Watch.” He said. I watched the camera move around on the building, it was moving away from me. “There is another camera on the building across the street. Do you see it? And another on the building to your right.”  
I watched the two other cameras move away so they weren’t watching me. “How are you doing this?” I asked.  
Just then a shiny black limousine pulled up. “Get into the car, John Watson. I would make a threat but I feel that the situation is quite clear to you.”  
“I’m sorry, I don’t get into a strangers car-” I started, but the phone call ended. I looked around, but nobody was on this street except the strange limo. I had my cellphone, so I figured I would be safe. Besides, I had no other choice so I got into the limo and the driver pulled away. There was a lady inside, about a few years older than me. She had long, wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was texting and didn’t even glance up at me.  
“Hi!” I said to her her.  
“Hi.” She said looking up at me, surprised. It was like she didn’t even realize I’d gotten in the car.  
“What’s your name?” I asked her.  
“Anthea.” She pursed her lips.  
“Is that your real name?” I wondered, because it looked like she was lying.  
“No.” She smiled.  
“I’m John.” I said.  
“I know.” She told me, annoyed.  
“Is there any point in asking where I’m going?” I asked.  
“Not at all, John.” She said, then went back to her texting.  
We ended up at a very large house that was in the forest. I got out of the limo and was met by a lady with very high heels who beckoned me to follow her, but she didn’t say one word. I was creeped out. We walked into the large house and up the stairs, The lady motioned me to go through the doors at the end of the hall and then she just walked away. When I walked in the doors I was met by a tall man about 25 years old, holding an umbrella and sitting in a very large armchair.  
“You know, I've got a phone. I mean, this is very clever and all that, but, ah, you could just phone me. On my phone.” I said.  
“When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes one learns to be discreet. Hence this place. You must be tired. Sit down.” The man said, motioning to a chair by the window.  
“I don’t want to sit down.” I sniped.  
The strange man said, “You don’t seem very afraid.”  
“You don’t seem very frightening.” I said, sneering.  
“Yes, brave words. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity don’t you think? What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?” The man asked.  
“Sherlock? I don’t have one. I barely know him. I’ve only spoken to him a couple times.” I told him.  
“Hm. It seems like Sherlock as taken quite a liking to you.”  
“No actually, it seems like he hates me.” I said quietly, remembering how he spat at me for trying to help him.  
“Sherlock never talks to anyone, if he has said more than one word to you it means that he likes you. He’s actually told me all about you, John.” The man told me.  
“Who are you?” I asked.  
“An interested party.” He said.  
“Interested in Sherlock? Why? I’m guessing you’re not friends.” I blurted out.  
“You’ve met him. How many friends do you imagine he has?” He asked me.  
“He said he doesn’t have friends.” I mumbled.  
“I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.” He sighed.  
“What’s that?” I snarked.  
“An enemy.” The man said simply.  
“An enemy?” I repeated.  
“In his mind certainly. If you were to ask him he'd probably say his archenemy. He does love to be dramatic.” He laughed.  
“Well thank god you're above all that.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.  
“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” The man asked me.  
“I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business.” I stated.  
“It could be.” the man said.  
“It really couldn’t.” I told him.  
“If you did continue to try to befriend Sherlock, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.”  
“Why?” I questioned.  
“Because you are not very wealthy.” He stated.  
“In exchange for what?” I asked.  
“Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to.” The man raised his eyebrows at me.  
“Why?” I asked again.  
“I worry about him, I don’t wan’t him getting into trouble.” The man said.  
“That’s nice.” I told him.  
“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a difficult relationship.” The man said quickly.  
“Can’t promise.” I smirked.  
“I haven’t mentioned a figure.” He said dutifully.  
“Don’t bother.” I shrugged.  
“You’re very loyal, very quickly,” He told me.  
“No I’m not. I’m just not interested.” I shrugged again.  
“Do you trust Sherlock?” The man asked.  
“Why?” I asked.  
“You don’t seem the kind to make friends easily.” The man said.  
“Are we done here?” I asked dully. I didn’t like this man.  
“You tell me.” He retorted. “It’s time to choose a side, John Watson.” And with that he got up and strolled out of the room, twirling his umbrella in his hands.

I then walked back outside where the limo was, and it dropped me outside of Baskerville Academy. I stepped out and walked to my dorms. I was thinking about who that strange man was, and how he was related to Sherlock. Sherlock was different, and we weren’t that good of friends. I mean, I have known him for less than 48 hours. I decide to just forget about it for now and sneak quietly into my dorm so I don’t wake up Greg. He was snoring softly, in a deep sleep. I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers, immediately falling into a dreamless slumber.

My alarm woke me up and I smiled when I opened my eyes to the unnaturally light, silent, and cold bedroom. I hobbled to the window with my blanket draped over me and threw open the curtain. The earth was covered in a soft, downy layer of snow. I loved snow. I had early memories of my dad pulling me and Harry around on sleds, building snow forts and of course, having snowball fights.  
“Greg?” I called out to wake him.  
“Bloody hell, it’s cold.” He grumbled.  
“It snowed last night.” I told him.  
“Oh joy.” Greg sighed sarcastically, pulling the covers over his head.  
After practice I headed down to the cafeteria after pulling on my jumper, along with my boots. I grabbed a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Blowing on it slightly to cool, I noticed Molly and Mary sitting in the corner of the cafeteria. After further exception of the room, I also noticed a boy sitting all alone in the opposite corner, he had on a familiar black coat, with the collar turned up.  
I headed over to him and see that his table was covered with science papers and at least five different textbooks written in foreign languages.  
“Hey Sherlock, move your stuff.” I smile at him.  
He looks up slowly, a pencil clenched in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. He just stares, so I pile up some of his papers to make room for me to sit.  
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.  
He sets down his coffee and clears his throat. “You’re going to sit here?”  
“You don’t want me to?” I intone, clutching my cocoa, ready to get up and move to sit at Molly's table.  
Sherlock frowns, then shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee.  
I relax a little, then I say, “I just met a friend of yours. Last night.”  
“I told you.” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I don’t have friends.”  
“An enemy.” I correct myself.  
“Oh.” Sherlock nods. “Which one?”  
“Your archenemy, apparently. Do people have archenemies?” I take a sip of hot chocolate.  
“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock laughs.  
“Yeah.” I say truthfully. Sherlock didn’t look fazed.  
“Did you take it?” He asked, glancing up at me.  
“No.” I shake my head.  
“John, we could have split the money. Think it through next time.” Sherlock smirked.  
“Who was he?” I tapped my fingers on the table.  
“The most dangerous man you've ever met and not my problem right now.” Sherlock sighs, turning back to his papers.  
I look over at Molly and Mary and they smiled and waved at me. I smile and then turn to Sherlock. He was staring at a book with a look of helpless discontent on his face, then he glanced up at me and shut his book with contempt. He stood up quickly, gathered his things, and then turned and started to stroll out of the cafeteria. I wondered why he was just leaving without saying anything, but I guess this was just typical Sherlock. I drained the rest of my cocoa with a sigh. Sherlock, who was already halfway across the cafeteria, turned around and called out, “Aren’t you coming, John?”  
I smiled. “Of course.” 

A few hours later, in Chemistry, I was spacing off again. It was hard to concentrate because I had no idea what the teacher was talking about. Sherlock wasn’t paying attention either, he hadn’t looked at me the whole class, even though I could concentrate on little else but him. He could be a total jerk…But the way he could deduce things about people just by glancing at them, his solemn green eyes noticing every detail. He was brilliant. But how can my stomach clench at the sight of him when I've only spoken to him a couple times? Tearing my eyes away from Sherlock, I stared outside at the snow falling softly down onto the already white ground. It was a winter wonderland. And then I heard my name being called, and I knew I was in trouble.  
“Mr. Watson,” Ms. Donovan's sarcastic voice rang out, “I’m trying to teach you something. Yet, something outside seems more important to you?”  
I knew that Ms. Donovan was strict, and that she has kicked out many kids before me for not paying attention. I felt my breath shorten and my heart quicken. Everybody was staring at me. “Um, I was just glancing outside at the, um, at the snow for a second. And uh-” I rambled.  
“John, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back tomorrow when you are ready to take this class seriously.” Ms. Donovan said.  
I sat still, my face a deep shade of red, a lump in my throat. I heard a shuffle in front of me and looked up to see Sherlock gathering his things.  
“That’s idiotic. You drone on for hours a day about nonsense and we aren't allowed to even glance out the window?” He exclaimed.  
Ms. Donovan stared at Sherlock for a few moments in shock before replying, “I teach this class for 55 minutes a day and in that time I expect you to follow my rules. Or you fail. The choice is yours. Both of you leave.”  
I slowly gather my things and shuffle out the door, tagging along behind Sherlock.  
“Thanks, Sherlock.” I mumbled gratefully.  
“It’s what friends do, right?”  
I smiled at him. I wonder why he decided to accept me as his friend now. The mystery man’s voice ran through my head, ‘Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?’ . Who was that man? We walked outside of the school and I breathed in the crisp, cold winter air. I knelt down and grabbed a handful of snow and rolled it up in my palms. I turned to Sherlock who stood still, looking up at the snow falling from the sky and trying to catch flakes on his tongue. I hurled the snowball at him and it hit him square in the jaw. He stood still for a moment then turned to me. I laughed at him until he started running towards me at full speed.  
“No!” I shrieked. I ran hard the opposite direction, but my short legs were no match for his long ones. He caught up to me in a few strides and then tackled me to the ground and shoved my face into the snowy earth. He might be faster, but I was stronger. I forced him off me and then held him down as I rubbed snow in his hair. He looked so magical lying in the snow, with flakes caught in his eyelashes and his cheeks flushed from exertion. I leaned in towards him and was overwhelmed with the feeling that we should kiss. We must kiss in the middle of the snowstorm, on the cold, icy, snow-covered ground. I would have kept leaning forward until our noses touched, then I would of leaned a little bit more until I felt his soft, warm, cupid-bow lips under mine. I would have. But then I snapped out of it.  
“I want to show you something.” He said.  
“What?” I wondered, and stood up.  
“Follow me.” He said, brushing himself off.  
I followed him around the back of the school yard, and through a patch of wild blackberries. He then led me to a large tree that was at the end of a small pathway in the woods.  
“Here.” He said.  
“Here?” I asked.  
“Look.” He said pointing to the tree.  
I looked at the tree and noticed branches were growing ladder-like up to the very top. “Wow.”  
“Yeah.” Sherlock said, then started climbing. I followed him.  
At the top there was a platform made out of wooden planks, and a roof over it made out of woven branches to protect from falling snow and rain. Inside the tree fort there was a mess of blankets and some old books strewn about the floor.  
“Did you build this?” I asked.  
“No. I found it. I come here to think sometimes.”  
“It’s cool.” Sherlock tossed me a blanket and I sat down on the wooden floor.  
At loss for a conversation topic, I asked Sherlock what he was doing for Winter Holiday.  
“Going back home to my family probably.”  
“What’s your family like?” I asked.  
“Not much to tell.” Sherlock sighed. “My parents are away on business a lot, I hardly ever see them, except on Holidays. My brother is an ignorant slob. He took care of me when I was small. He always tries to tell me that he knows best, so we are always fighting. Anyways, he holds a minor position in the British Government so he is not home much, thankfully.”  
“Sounds nice.” I laughed. “Well, better than my family at least.”  
“Tell me about yours?” Sherlock asked.  
“You deduced it, remember?” I laughed.  
“Just the obvious stuff.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Well, my sister Harry is an alcoholic, you knew that. She is constantly getting arrested and she has a bunch of DUI’s. My mum and her always get into fights, because she is 24 and still living at home. She also… Has a girlfriend. Her and mum don’t see eye to eye when it comes to that kind of stuff. Mum, she’s depressed. She’s on a bunch of pills and things. It all started when my dad died…” I broke off, and felt tears welling up.  
“I’m sorry John. I- I mean- You don’t have to continue.” Sherlock stumbled over his words.  
“It’s fine. It’s good to talk out loud, you know?” I stuttered. “Well, my dad died in war. He got shot and the doctors couldn’t save him. That’s partly why I want to become a doctor, so I can save others. I constantly have nightmares about him, though. I just miss him a lot. We move around a lot because of my mums job. She sent me here I think because she doesn’t want me to end up like Harry.”  
“Wow, I just. I don’t know what to say…” Sherlock responded.  
“It’s fine. You’re a really good listener.” I murmured. We sat in silence for a couple more minutes until Sherlock broke it.  
“Listen, what I said before, John, I meant it. I don't have friends. I've just got one.”  
“Yeah?” I smiled.  
“Yeah.” He nodded, and then smiled back.  
I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders and shivered from the cold.  
“Hey,” Sherlock asked. “What are you doing for holiday?”  
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t really want to go home because it’s just going to be my mom and sister fighting constantly.”  
“Would you like to come to my house and spend winter break with me?” Sherlock questioned.  
I sucked in my breath, the whole week with Sherlock? “Yes, of course!” I laughed “ That would be awesome.”  
We chatted for a while until Sherlock yawned. “What time is it?”  
“1:00.” I said, checking my phone. “You want to go get lunch?”  
“Not hungry.” Sherlock said. “I have to check on my experiments.”  
“Oh.” I said. “Ok, well I’m gonna go eat lunch.”  
“Ok…”Sherlock replied quietly.  
“What?” I asked.  
“See you later?” Sherlock asked, haltingly.  
“Of course.” I told him. He smiled again, and his eyes shone brighter than the moon.

We both climbed down the ladder branches, made our way down the trail, and parted ways at the door to the cafeteria. Walking in, I saw Greg and Mike and waved, then I grabbed an apple and a glass of lemonade and made my way towards them.  
“What’s up John?” Mike said, high-fiving me.  
“Hey.” I said.  
“You’re not very hungry.” Greg observed, staring at my apple.  
“No, I’m not feeling well.” I say, looking down at my black boots. Truth was, I was afraid that I was falling for Sherlock. I couldn't tell them, I couldn’t even face it myself. I was straight, or at least that’s what I had always thought.  
“Sorry dude.” Mike says, concerned.  
“Are you guys going to watch the game this Saturday?” I ask, to get a conversation started, and we talk until the bell rings.  
Break was almost here, and I was very excited. I had already started packing for Sherlocks’ house and just needed to call my mom to tell her I wouldn't be coming home. She wouldn't like hearing I was staying at another boys house. I decided to tell her I was staying at school for the holidays. My mother answered the phone after the first ring, “John, whats wrong? Are you ok?”  
“I’m fine mum, I just wanted to- if its ok with you-, I think I might stay here for holiday, a lot of my friends are staying and I have a lot of work to catch up on. The classes are harder than I thought they would be.”  
“But darling, we miss you so much.” I could hear the pain in her voice and I felt bad.  
“I miss you too, but I really want to do well here, and its nice to have friends.” Playing the friend card would get her to let me ‘stay’. Eventually I got her to let me get out of the family gathering as long as I call her once in a while. I felt bad about lying to her. I went to go tell Sherlock the good news and met him in the dorm hallway.  
“Guess what?” I told him excitedly.  
“What?” Sherlock asked, a smile tugging on his lips. His soft, red, kissable lips. Wait, what? I mentally hit myself, reminding me that straight guys did not think about kissing their best friends lips. But you’re not straight, a little voice taunted in my head, not entirely. You know how you feel about boys, about Sherlock Holmes.  
“I, uh…” I regained my composure and smiled back. “Oh, I can go to your house.”  
“Thats outstanding news, John.” Sherlock said.  
“Yeah, I- uh, didn't tell my mom exactly where I was going.”  
“She’ll never know.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Right, well see you tomorrow.” I said, and headed back to my dorm. I put my pajamas on and crawled into bed, trying hard not to think of the tall, messy-haired, green eyed, brilliant Sherlock Holmes.

The next morning after rugby practice, Mary waved at me from her table at breakfast. She was sitting with Molly, and when I went over there I felt tension in the air. They didn’t seem mad at each other though. I sat down awkwardly, and Molly smiled. “I just forgot, Mr Tate wanted to talk to me this morning.” She got up and skipped away. Me and Mary sat in silence until she broke it.  
“What are you doing for break?” Her voice was soft and high.  
“I’m going to Sherlock’s.”’ I told her. I saw a flash in her eyes. Was that anger?  
“Oh.” Was all she said.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Partying.” She laughed, pumping her fists. “Actually I’m having a party at my Winter home in a few weeks.”  
“Oh wow.” I smiled.  
“Yeah.” She twirled her hair. “Do you wanna come?” Was she flirting with me? I didn’t really think of her that way. Until now. She was pretty. Her blonde hair had grown a little past her shoulders, it was curly and framed her face perfectly. Her eyes were bright and blue. She smiled and her whole face lit up.  
“Yeah.” I said. “Yeah, I would.”  
“Cool.” She drawled out.  
“Can I get your number?” I asked her, smiling and running a hand through my short hair in a flirtatious way.  
“Sure, John.” She said, biting her lip.  
We wrote our numbers on each others wrists, with a promise to text as soon as possible. Then we went our separate ways.  
The rest of the week went by in a blur, and pretty soon I was in my last class. Winter break was finally here. After classes I rushed up to the dorms to grab my suitcase, then ran to meet Sherlock. I knocked on his dorm and heard his voice answer, “Come in, John.”  
“How’d you know it was me?” I smirked, walking in. I immediately stopped in my tracks because there was Sherlock, no shirt, his hair mussed up, digging in his suitcase with his back to me. I couldn't drag my eyes away from his lean muscled back, his pale skin was flawless. He turned around with a smile. “The way you knock.”  
“What?” I ask.  
“The way you knock is very distinct, thats how I knew it was you.”  
“Oh.” I say, trying to look anywhere but his bare chest. If he saw me staring he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled on a blue t-shirt.  
“Are you ready?” he asked.  
“Yeah.” I smiled and held up my red suitcase.  
“My brother is picking me up.” He said, walking out with me behind him. I followed him into the parking lot. It was busy, with parents picking up their children and heading off on their vacations. We waited for a few minutes until I got bored and started kicking a rock around the sidewalk. Suddenly Sherlock groaned, and I looked up to see a black limo pull into the parking lot.  
“I told Mycroft not to send the limousine.” He whined.  
“Thats yours?” I asked, excitedly. I had never ridden in one before. This one was sleek and as dark as Sherlock’s hair.  
“Yes.” Sherlock said hesitantly, and then looked at me worriedly. I smiled, excited that we would be riding in a limo like famous people.  
“This is already the best vacation ever.” I laughed as we climbed in the back seat.  
I’m ecstatic as we sit silently across from each other in the limo, the dim light shining on Sherlock makes him look supernatural, and I chastise myself once again for thinking he looks beautiful. I mean, he’s Sherlock. He would never like me. He’s probably straight. I have liked girls my whole life, so I don’t know what’s happening to me. What about Mary? I liked Mary, didn’t I? There was just an exception with Sherlock, but I don’t think I will ever tell him. We made small talk about school and classes until Sherlock took out a cigarette. He didn’t offer me one, like he knew I didn’t smoke. He rolled down the window and lit it, taking a long drag.  
“Those things will kill you, you know.” I coughed, nodding my head towards the cancer stick.  
Sherlock smiled thoughtfully at me. “Says the boy who's thinking about applying for the military.”  
“That’s different- wait. How’d you know I was thinking that? I’ve never told anybody.” I asked him, raising my eyebrows.  
Sherlock smirked and took another drag “Your knees and posture told me.” he shrugged after exhaling a lungful of smoke, and then he dropped the half burnt cigarette in the cupholder. He grimaced. “Low tar.”, he said as if having to explain why he hadn’t finished smoking it.  
“My posture and knees?” I asked, confused, ignoring the excess smoke in the car.  
“Hmm? Oh yes, the scrapes over the half healed scars on your knees and arms, due to your overly enthusiastic rugby practices the past few weeks. By posture I mean the set, defensive way you hold yourself both sitting and standing. You seek danger. Almost wait for it.” Sherlock nodded thoughtfully at his own words.  
“That’s… amazing!” I exclaimed. Sherlock was amazing.  
Sherlock stopped short and looked up at me, with the same expression he had had after my first reaction to his deduction in the Cafe. He looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and a tail.  
The limo pulled up to a manor, it was huge. “Wow.” I breathed out in disbelief. “You live here.”  
Sherlock smirked as he got out of the limo. “Yes, this is the Holmes Estate.”  
We were greeted by a swarm of housekeepers who called Sherlock ‘Young Master Holmes’ and when Sherlock introduced me they called me ‘Master Watson’. We walked into the large foyer and down the long hallway where I met someone who looked familiar. The ‘interested party’ in Sherlock, the strange man with the umbrella. The man smiled at Sherlock, and I stopped in my tracks. Sherlock kept walking and ignored the man.  
“Hello, brother mine.” The man sneered. “I see you brought a friend to visit.”  
Wait, Sherlock’s brother? That was Sherlock’s brother Mycroft! I can’t believe that was Sherlock’s brother! Why didn’t he just tell me when I told him about meeting his ‘Arch-nemesis’?  
Sherlock ignored Mycroft and instead turned back to me. “Follow me John.”  
I followed him up the long, winding staircase. “Your brother, Sherlock? Thats your brother?”  
“Obviously.” Sherlock mumbled. I rolled my eyes.  
Sherlock led me to a room that contained a bed, a dresser, a bathroom, and a window with a green curtain. “This is your room. I’ll let you unpack.” With that, he turned and walked out.  
After unpacking and turning down my bed I went out to find Sherlock. After wandering aimlessly lost through the halls I was stopped short by the sound of hushed voices behind a closed door.  
“I do not.” That was Sherlock.  
“Yes you do. I can see it all over your face. A brother can tell, Sherlock.” Mycroft’s voice taunted.  
“Shut up. So what if I do?” Sherlock snapped.  
“I told you before, caring is not an advantage. I thought you knew better.” Mycroft sighed.  
I didn’t know what they were talking about but I didn’t want to eavesdrop anymore so I cleared my throat and called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”  
Mycroft immediately opened the door and walked out, looking at me skeptically. I jumped back, feigning surprise, like I hadn't been listening to their conversation and didn’t know they were in that room.  
“Sherlock’s in there.” Mycroft said, strolling past me.  
I walked in and came to the conclusion that this was definitely Sherlock’s room. One whole wall was a book shelf, full of huge textbooks and journals. The wooden floor was covered with scraps of paper and piles of more books. There was a small brown table on the other side, it had scorch marks and vials with purple liquid inside. There was a magnifying glass, and a microscope on the table as well. The wall above the bed had a map of Europe, with red pushpins pressed onto certain locations. A record player was playing faint classical music, but couldn’t really be heard over the loud static noise of the TV. In the midsts of the chaos was Sherlock, sitting in a blue armchair, crosslegged, his hands in prayer position and pressing into his lips, and his eyes were closed. I clear my throat loudly, hoping that he will open his eyes, but he doesn’t budge. I sit down on the bed and stare at him. I wonder what his brilliant mind is thinking about. His enigmatic and mysterious personality makes him very hard to read. The setting sun started to shine on his dark hair and you could see every curl on his head. His eyes were shimmering an incredible green. Wait, his eyes? To my dismay, Sherlock had opened his eyes and was staring right back at me. I shook my head and mumbled. “Oh. Sorry.”  
“I don’t mind.” Sherlock shrugged. “I was thinking.”  
“Oh, that’s what you were doing.” I concluded lamely.  
We were interrupted by Mycroft barging in.  
“Sherl-” He started, but was cut short by Sherlock.  
“Knock!”  
“Sorry, brother mine.” He put his hands up defensively. “Dinner’s ready.”  
I follow them down the stairs and through a few halls until we get to the dining room. The dining room was big, and consisted of a table that seated 8, a large chandelier, and a few servants to cater to our every need. Already seated at the table was a lady, probably in her late forties, that looked vaguely like Sherlock. She smiled a thin smile when she saw me.  
“You must be John.” She took me into her arms for a hug.  
“Obviously.” Sherlock said under his breath.  
We all sat down and the servants brought out tea and lemonade.  
“I hope you like spaghetti, John.” Sherlocks mum said.  
“I do Mrs. Holmes, thank you.”  
“Oh, it’s Violet dear.” Mrs. Holmes smiled. “I’m afraid that Arthur won’t be joining us tonight, he has to work late.” I assumed she meant Mr. Holmes.  
We sipped our drinks in silence while the servants brought out steaming bowls of spaghetti and piping hot slices of garlic bread.  
“Is your room satisfactory?” Violet asked me.  
“Yes.” I told her. “Thank you.”  
“So, John. Sherlock’s told me you’ve moved from Chelmsford?” Mycroft asked.  
“Yes.” I said. “With my sister and mother.”  
“Oh. So how long have you known Sherlock?” Mrs. Holmes inquired.  
“Mum-” Sherlock started in a complaining tone.  
“Shush.” Violet interrupted.  
“I’ve known Sherlock for about a month.”  
“Oh not long at all! We’ve heard so much about you though. How long are you staying with us?”  
What has Sherlock told you about me? I wondered. “I’m staying for a week. If that’s ok?”  
“Yes, of course. What a shame it’s not longer. Is it ok with your mother?” She asked, twirling spaghetti on her fork.  
“Yes, I already spoke with her.” I said, and Mrs. Holmes nodded.  
We ate in silence until I noticed something on the wall. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a large painting.  
“Oh now…” Sherlock started, trying to change the subject.  
“Sherlock…” His mother touched his shoulder, silencing him. “That, John, is Scott Hall. Part of the family Estate. It’s in Cheshire, in the North of England. I painted it as a matter of fact.”  
“You painted it? It’s very good.” I said earnestly.  
“Thank you, John.” She smiled. “That is the house where I gave birth to Myc.”  
“Yes?” I urged. It was funny to see how uncomfortable Mycroft looked.  
“Yes. It was difficult. I was in labour for 18 hours.” Violet looked happy as she remembered the past.  
“Mummy, please.” Mycroft whined, embarrassed. Sherlock snickered under his breath.  
“It was worth it.” She continued. “Myc was a delightful baby.”  
“Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly suffer all the way to the end.” Mycroft said sternly. “I’m sure John isn’t remotely interested in what your saying.”  
“He had lovely skin, and little curls on his head, and beautiful, big hazel eyes.” She said, ignoring him.  
“You live in the past, mum.” Sherlock stated.  
“Perhaps I do, sweetheart. Because it’s always there and never lets me down.” She sighed. “Do you want some more bread?”  
We finished eating and Sherlock walked me to my room and bid me a goodnight. I took a quick shower, and then slipped into bed. After a while I decided to text Mary, because I couldn’t sleep.

Hey:)  
-JW

She responded almost instantly.

Hey! U still coming to my party?;):)  
-MM

Oh. I forgot about her party! I could bring Sherlock. He wouldn't like it, but maybe it would help him make more friends.

 

Yeah! Tomorrow right? Text me address?  
-JW

Yup, tomorrow night @ 10 pm  
11234 Loriston Dr. 76567  
-MM

In the same town as Sherlock?  
-JW

Yeah. Are you bringing Sherlock?  
-MM

I was… Is that ok?  
-JW

I guess.  
-MM

ok  
-JW

It’s just… A lot of people don’t like him.  
-MM

People just need to give him a chance.  
-JW

ok. Molly is excited becuz he’s going xD  
-MM

Lol:) Tell Molls that his house has like 50 different rooms and has servants.  
-JW

Wow. Seriously? That’s crazy!  
-MM

Yeah. My eyes r closing… Gn and c u tomorrow:)  
-JW

Gn John:)  
-MM

The next morning I woke to the smell of coffee and toast. I put on my favorite cream-colored jumper and jeans and made my way to the dining room to find Violet, and a man I assumed was Sherlock’s father.  
“Good morning dear.” Violet smiled, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Are you hungry?”  
“Very.” I said, sitting down and grabbing a piece of toast. I turned to the man. “You must be Mr. Holmes?”  
“And you must be John Watson.” He shook my hand. “I heard you play Rugby?”  
We talked about sports and I ate my toast with jam until Sherlock wandered down the stairs, and I got distracted. He was dressed in a tight purple button up shirt, and black skinny jeans. His hair was styled so some curls fell into his eyes, and he had on brown boots.  
“Come along, John.” He waved to me as my heart stuttered.  
“Ok.” I smiled. “Excuse me Mrs and Mr Holmes.”  
“You boys have fun, and don’t get into trouble.” Violet said sternly.  
I followed Sherlock outside as he put on his black coat, making sure to pop the collar. The snow crunched beneath our feet.  
“Where are we going?” I asked him.  
“I thought I might show you the grounds.” He shrugged.  
We explored the many acres of Holmes Manor until we got too cold. We then got the great idea to walk to the coffee shop. It wasn’t that far, Sherlock said. I heard my phone buzz in my pocket but ignored it until we got to the cafe. Sherlock said he would order me a hot chocolate, and I sat down and looked at my phone.

Hi:D  
-MM

It was Mary. I wait a few more minutes until responding.

Hey:) Wuts up?  
-JW

Sherlock returned with my hot chocolate and I sip it slowly while I look at her new message.

Nm:P Just bored.  
-MM

I look up at Sherlock and he is just sipping his coffee and staring out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. I write back to Mary.

See u soon:) Can’t wait 4 the party!  
-JW

Sherlock and I finish our drinks and start walking home. I should tell him about the party now. I don’t want him to get mad. Would he get mad?  
“Sherlock…” I begin. He turns to me. “Mary invited us to a party tonight.”  
“What time?” He asks me.  
“Um…” I say. “10 o’clock.”  
“Oh, well what do you want to do until then?” He questions me.  
“I don’t know.” I said softly. “What about you?”

We continued our walk home and snow began to fall. The road grew glossy with ice and our breath billowed out in soft clouds. The snow really did make Sherlock look magical. His raven hair stood out against the downy white and his long eyelashes caught the flakes. I was glad Sherlock wanted to go to the party tonight. When we got to the house we went up to Sherlocks room and decided to watch a movie on his laptop. We put the laptop on the end of Sherlock’s bed and both lay on our stomachs while he scrolled through the movie lists. All I could think about was that I’ve never been this close to him before. He smelled of pine, mint, and old books. He was warm and I pressed eagerly into his side, his body was rigid. I wonder what his lips tasted like. I shook my head and scolded myself. I liked Mary and I wasn’t gay. You keep telling yourself that, the voice inside my head taunted. Then I realized that Sherlock was asking me something.  
“What?” I asked, dazed.  
“I said, ‘Have you seen this movie before?’” Sherlock repeated.  
“Oh, um. What movie is it?” I asked, lowering my eyes.  
“Kite Runner.” Sherlock stated.  
“Right. No I haven’t.” I shook my head.  
“Oh. I read the book. It’s sad.” He said. We settled in and the movie began. It was long, and it was sad. We finished it right before lunch time when Mycroft barged in and Sherlock and I unconsciously moved away from each other.  
“Knock!” Sherlock snarled at him, chucking a pillow at his head. It hit him in the face and Sherlock and I fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.  
“Lunch is ready.” Mycroft scoffed at us, then turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the room. We went down to the dining room and were greeted by the sight of grilled cheese. We both sit down and begin to eat. Sherlock began to talk animatedly about his latest experiment, which involves honeybees, and I listen and smile. He is really cute when he talks about something he likes. I shake my head and mentally slap myself. Normal people did not think about how cute their friend was. I. Was. Not. Gay.  
After we eat Sherlock tells me about a fair going on in town. “We could go.” He adds, “If you want.”  
“Yes!” I practically shout. I absolutely love fairs, my dad used to take me and Harry to one every year before he passed.  
“Ok. Let’s go right now.” He laughs.

We arrived at the fair via taxi. The chaos of it all washed through us like a wave. All I could hear was the screams of children on the rides and the sounds of electronic games whirring. It wasn’t very cold in the city, and there wasn’t any snow on the ground. That made it a perfect day for the fair. Sherlock was deducing the people that I pointed to as we made our way around playing games and buying food. I had to cover my mouth with my hands and bite my lip because I was laughing so hard. I didn’t know how much of the deductions were true, but It didn’t matter as long as Sherlock was pressed close to me and his warm breath tickled my cheek as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. I’m not gay, I kept telling myself. No, the voice in my head spoke, but you're in love with Sherlock. So what, I think as I watch him practically vibrating from the amount of cotton candy he’s eaten this evening, grinning as he looks at me, so what if I’m a little bit in love with the raven-haired boy. It doesn’t mean anything.  
“For God’s sake John, come along.” The fondness in Sherlocks tone totally undermines the exasperation I knew he was going for, however, when Sherlock grabs a firm hold of the cuff of my jumper sleeve I allow myself to be dragged along. I absolutely do not blush when Sherlock’s knuckles brush along the inside of my wrist when we walk. I don’t.  
We left the fair, on our way to Mary’s party. She lived close enough to walk but I was cold so I convinced Sherlock to catch a cab. Shivering hard, I stared out the window and watched my breath fog up the glass. I felt warmth being draped over me and turned to see Sherlock wrapping his coat around my shoulders.  
“Aren’t you co-old?” I chattered through my teeth.  
“Not as much as you are.” He stated, raising his eyebrows.  
I smiled and thanked him, grateful for the warmth and also grateful for the smell that enveloped me. The coat smelled of cotton candy, and mint, and another smell I couldn’t quite place but was distinctly Sherlock. About a block away from Mary’s house we could already hear the music. Walking in I hardly recognized anyone, I almost lost Sherlock until he gripped my shoulder tight and hissed in my ear, “Don’t leave me.”  
“I won’t.” I mumbled back.  
I grabbed two beers and placed one in Sherlock’s hand. He gave me a quizzical look and took a tentative sip.  
“Have you not drank before?” I smirked and teasingly giggled, “It’s ok, don’t drink too much you might be a lightweight.”  
I saw Mary across the room and she waved and started walking towards me accompanied by Molly. Sherlock saw them too and started to tense up.  
“Hello boys.” Mary giggled, she was a bit tipsy and was slurring her words slightly. Molly was not drunk and smiled shyly at Sherlock.  
“Do you want me to give you a tour?” She asked him.  
“Not real- Ow!” Sherlock was interrupted because I had pinched his shoulder. If he didn’t go with Molly he would be following me around all night. I guess he understood because he glared at me and followed Molly down the hall. Mary giggled and grabbed my hand, dragging me in the opposite direction with her. Sherlock would be ok with Molly. She took my beer, downed the rest of it herself and placed a whole bottle of whiskey in my hand. I took a sip. And another. And another. It was really good, and I was already feeling buzzed. We sat down on a couch and talked, but since Mary was drunk it was mostly me listening to her slurring about her favorite movie and actors and bands. My mind drifted to Sherlock and I tried not to think about him because there was a beautiful girl sitting in front of me, but he was consuming my thoughts. I felt dizzy and sick.  
“Mary.” I said, interrupting her and my Sherlock thoughts. “Where’s the bathroom?”  
“Upstairs.” She said back looking at me worriedly, I was probably white as a ghost.  
I stumbled to the bathroom as quickly as I could and locked the door behind me. I immediately began dry heaving into the toilet but nothing came out. Starring into the mirror I began to loathe myself, I tugged on my bland blonde hair, I blinked my tired blue eyes, glared at my not-so shiny white teeth and poked at my freckled nose. “I’m gay?” I whispered to my reflection. My reflection smirked back.  
“Uh oh. Don’t let mummy hear you say that.” A familiar voice laughed.  
I froze, completely terrified, and slowly turned around. My sister, Harry, was lying in the bathtub. Dried tears had left mascara rivers streaming down her face. She was wearing a ruby red dress and her dishwater blonde hair was a tangled mess around her head.  
“Harry? What’re you doing here.” I sniffled. I realized that there was a lump in my throat and it sounded like I was about to cry.  
“Johnny boy, don’t cry.” She smiled. “I’ve already done that for the both of us.”  
I offered her the half drunk bottle of whiskey I was carrying and she took it gratefully. We sat in silence for a few moments, reflecting on what had brought us to this point and sharing the whiskey. She broke the silence.  
“Johnny, I know you’ve liked girls because of all those dumb posters of Sammy Braddy hung in your room, and you’ve had countless girlfriends. Why all the confusion now?”  
“I met a boy. He’s very clever, and funny, mysterious, and beautiful. He has high cheekbones and raven black hair. But I know what mom thinks of this lifestyle and I don’t think he likes me back.” I stopped. I do like Sherlock, I really do. “I think I love him.”  
“Love is a strong word. But it seems like you have your mind set. You’re not gay by the way, your bi. That means you can love both men and women.”  
“I guess I never thought of that. Thanks Harry.”  
She smiled and applied some lipstick.  
What happened with you?” I asked, starting to fix her hair.  
“Clara just broke up with me over text.” She sniffed. Clara was her girlfriend of 4 years, but they never seemed happy together. Maybe it was for the best. I just hugged her tight and wiped the smudges from her eyes.  
“I’m sorry sis.” I told her earnestly. I helped her out of the tub, and with that we went our separate ways and I watched Harry get immersed in the crowd. Stumbling around a little drunkenly, I suddenly got attacked from behind and there were lips on my lips, for one split second I thought it was Sherlock but the lips were dry and rough and tasted of alcohol. It was really a blur, but the next thing I remember I was being dragged to a dark bedroom. The face dragging me giggled and came more into focus and I realized it was Mary. The door locked behind us shut, but I’m not sure if it locked. Hands tugged at my shirt and belt, eventually leaving me naked except for my red pants. I blindly reached for the light but was stopped short by bare skin and breasts which I immediately recoiled from.  
“Don’t be shy John.” A voice seductively rang by my ear. The same hands that tore my shirt off pushed me back onto the bed and straddled my hips. I groaned when the friction of her hand started rubbing at my crotch. It felt good, but wrong. I was like a drunken zombie. Suddenly the lights were on and I heard a commotion and I felt Mary being lifted off me. I saw a dark angel coming towards me. Sherlock. That was when I blacked out.  
When I came to I was laying on the couch, probably still at Mary’s house seeing as there was broken glass, rubbish, and food still everywhere. I remember the party and blacking out but all the things in-between were a blur. The florescent lightbulbs bored into my eyes and I had a massive migraine. Everything was heightened, I smelled the bitter alcohol, the old crisps, I heard soft chatter in the other room and even the buzzing of the lights. I felt the comfortable softness of Sherlock’s jacket that was draped over me. Sherlock, I remember him right before I blacked out. And Mary, wasn’t she there too? Before I could pice anything else together I saw Mike enter the room and give me a concerned look.  
“How you doing buddy?” He smiled tentatively, trying to lighten the mood.  
“Wha- -ppened?” My voice sounded hoarse and soft. I could barely get my words out.  
“Somebody roofied your alcohol last night, mate. Mary claims it wasn’t her, but we aren’t sure. She’s being questioned by the police.” he grimaced.  
I groaned and closed my eyes. “Sherl-“ I got half of his name out and fell into a coughing fit.  
Mike must have knew what I needed because when I opened my eyes again the boy of my dreams was sitting by me.  
“Mary?” I asked.  
“Yes, It was her but she did not know that they were ‘roofies’. She drugged your whiskey but you have an allergy to flunitrazepam. Also Harry is fine, it didn’t effect her like it did you.” He shook his head slightly. “I found you and Mary in the bedroom, you were calling my name, hardly breathing and barely alive. Do you remember any of this?”  
I shook my head motioning for him to keep going.  
“I tried to administer CPR but you were far to gone and blacked out.” I started to turn red when I pictured Sherlock giving me CPR while I’m laying there in my red pants. “You started to vomit everywhere, which is good, you got it out of your system, but that’s when you started to vomit blood so I called the ambulance and they came in and saved you.”  
“Wow sounds like a rollercoaster.” I mumbled. “Thank you Sherlock.”  
He looked troubled for a moment, then stuttered out. “Is Mary your girlfriend?”  
“No.” I said carefully.  
“Ok.” Was all he said back.  
I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. Sherlock just saved my life when Mary almost killed me and for a split second I almost admitted all the feelings I had for him but decided against it. He had Molly.  
“So, what about you?” I licked my lips nervously. “Is Molly your girlfriend?”  
“It didn’t really work out.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Oh.” I felt awkward.  
“Yeah.” Sherlock said slowly.  
“Why not?” I asked, trying not to sound relieved.  
“She’s nice. Not really my area though…” Sherlock murmured making every effort not to look at me.  
“Oh!” I said, eyes widening. Did he just admit to being gay? Bi? I was so confused.  
“So you don’t like Mary?” Sherlock finally met my gaze, he looked angry and his fists were clenched.  
I blushed when I locked eyes with Sherlock. “No- no. I just- I like someone else.” I like you, damn it. I wanted to tell him but I couldn’t. The words would not come out of my mouth. I felt trapped. “Why do you seem mad?”  
“Mary just drugged you, almost killed you! You were practically dead in my hands!” He cried out.  
“I’m fine Sherlock, calm down. I’m fine!” I said, clutching his wrist.  
“For God’s sake, John.” Sherlock spat out, and grabbed my face, pressing his lips to mine softly. Sherlock was kissing me. I was kissing Sherlock. Sherlock liked me back. He was soft. He tasted of cinnamon. All my thoughts melted into one as I breathed him in. Sherlock. It was meant to be.


End file.
